Suze's Wedding
by riterandreader
Summary: Basically, my entry from MCBC's suze's wedding writing contest. It's the proposal and wedding one shot.


AN – Yes, I wrote this about a year ago, for the "Suze's Wedding" writing contest (at the MCBC, in case you were wondering). Please review. :-)

DISCLAIMER – No, I do not own any of Meg Cabot's wonderful characters from _The Mediator._

Enjoy.

Suze's Wedding

The bridal march song came on. Oh. My. Lord. I breathed nervously, and looked at Andy, who was standing next to me. I had put my arm through his; Andy was going to give me – the bride; the _bride_ – away. He didn't look to calm himself. I took a deep breath. "It's okay, Andy. We can do this."

"I know," he said, taking a gulp. "It's just that being the father of the groom is much easier than the bride," he gave me a wryly grin. Jake had gotten married last summer, now I guess you could say it was my turn.

"Hey, being the bride is not that easy either," I laughed nervously, trying to cut the tension. This was it. In approximately an hour or so – depending how fast Father Dominic would go through the service – I was soon going to be Mrs. Jesse de Silva: something I had been wanting to be practically all my life (well, okay; since I fell in love with the guy, any way).

The doors opened, and we walked out into the church, where hundreds and hundreds people were watching me. Huh, I wasn't nervous. Not a bit.

Well, maybe a little. All right, a lot. Can do this, I breathed. I can do this. I love him. I love him.

Still, the photographer, and stuff, was all in my face, taking pictures with such a bright flash, I blindly blinked, and just barely was able to see where I was going for a few seconds.

Then I saw Jesse waiting for me at the altar. Oh my God. All the embarrassment of the photographer and the crowd melted away. It was totally worth it. I'd go through flame and fire for this man – and in many instances, did.

He was just standing there, with this smile on his face. He'd been waiting for a while for this moment, too. He proposed to me a year ago, but we decided to wait until after my college graduation before actually going through with the wedding. I love him. He was in his tuxedo that looked so good on him. Anything looked good on Jesse, really, if you think about it. Still, my breath somehow hitched at the sight of it all – the sight of _him_. He was glowing – literally – and I think I was too, if the heat of my cheeks was any sign, and that I couldn't, simply couldn't stop smiling (grinning like an idiot, actually).

Like I said, even though we were getting married, the actual proposal came a year ago.

As always, Jesse planned a romantic outing for just the two of us. And as always, it ended up like a complete disaster (okay, not _always_. I mean, it's not like we never have romantic moments or anything like that. Of course we do). As always, the disaster had to do with some pissed-of ghost who couldn't leave us alone for FIVE FREAKIN MINTUES (sorry about the random outburst of aggression, it's just, that, yeah, you'll see…).

Jesse had packed a picnic for the both of us by the beach, with foldable chairs, table, tablecloth, complete with a dinner that Jesse and Andy cooked together, candles – so many candles – and red wine (I had turn 21 two months ago. It was _completely_ legal for me to drink, okay?). Oh, Jesse brought something else too. But Jesse didn't take it out just yet.

We had just finished eating, and we were talking and laughing. That's when heard a third, _unwelcome_, voice laughing along with us. That might be a little creepy for some people, but by now, Jesse and I were used to it. I turned to see a ghost of some guy, who looked around forty-something, and was seriously in need of a hair transplant. Jesse and I just kind of glared at him, but Jesse, always the one to help those in need asked, "Hello, can we help you?"

"Oh," said the man. "Don't mind me. Enjoy your lovely dinner, and - " he gave me a leering gaze I didn't like " – the lovely company."

I saw the Jesse lurched forward, desiring to give him a fist in the gut or something along those lines. Instead, he attempted to keep his composure and like a true gentleman replied, "Yes, well, what is it that you need?"

"Oh, nothing… nothing," he said nonchalantly, he gaze wandering around his surroundings. "Enjoy your meal, I think I need to be somewhere," and then dematerialized.

"Yeah, somewhere _other_ than _here_," I heard Jesse mutter under his breath, just as the man began to vanish.

Then Jesse looked at me, with his loving eyes, and cleared his throat. "_Querida_, I would like to ask you something. I hope that I'm not being to forward" – leave it to Jesse, who lived in the 19th century the first twenty years of his life, to think he was being forward by asking a question, "but would you - "

"Hey, you two love-birds," the Man-With-Bad-Comb-Over popped back.

Jesse groaned in irritation, and I asked, "Didn't you just say you had somewhere to be?" in an annoyed way, hoping he'd get the message: "You're Not Welcome Here Right Now, Bye", but he just ignored me.

"I just thought, 'what the heck? those two must really be lonely,' so I decided to join you."

He reached for the wine-bottle, and took a swig of it, without pouring it into a glass.

"Hey!" I yelled, incredulously. When Jesse wasn't looking, I had managed to glance at the price tag. Let's just say, not even my designer shoes cost _that_ much. It was expensive wine, and the guy was downing it like it was a bottle of Coca Cola.

"What the hell to you think you're doing?" I managed to snatch it out of his greedy palms.

The ghost lunged for the bottle to get it back, but was suspending in the air, because Jesse grabbed the back of the guy's shirt-collar, and pulled him away from me.

Jesse then growled, "Leave the lady alone. If you have a problem, deal with me."

By then I managed to recover, and stood up. "You come here," I told him, "and interrupt our fine meal, but we are nice enough to offer our help. You don't want it, fine. Then, you barge back, drinking _our wine_, and let me just ask you, just what the hell is your _problem_?"

"My '_problem_,' " He spat, while Jesse still had his iron grip on the man's shirt-collar. "Is that _you're _alive, and I'm not. _You're_ still young, and fresh, and you have all this time ahead of you. The problem is that I _shouldn't _have died in the first place. That's my 'problem.' "

I stared at him, as one would a lunatic, who escaped the loony-bin. "You're blaming _us _for _your_ problems?" I said, incredulously. Was this man for real?

"Not you," he growled. "But why should you be so _happy_ and _alive_ and not me?"

This guy seemed like a total Mr. Scrooge-type figure to me, but who am I to judge. And any way, "It's not like _I _decide what happens to people and what doesn't! Things just… are the way they are."

"Maybe," Jesse finally spoke, with his cold-an-artic-wind voice. "Instead of looking at other people's happiness, you should try to find your own. And instead of looking at what _other_ people have, be happy with what you have."

Made perfect sense to me. Unfortunately, the guy, Mr. Scrooge, didn't like what Jesse had said. In fact, it seemed to only aggravate him more.

Which is why, seconds later, Jesse and I were dogging china that he'd brought, dinnerware, and foldable chairs. "I guess, this wasn't your intention," I yell to Jess, and he deftly moved to avoid an evil-looking, broken wine glass. "But," I said. "Do you have any more bright ideas?"

"Other than 'duck'," he shouted at me, "Not particularly at the moment, _querida_."

"Okay. Just wondering," I shouted back. I couldn't find anything to hit, or throw in Mr. Scrooge's direction, who just stood, and watched, as he made all of this chaos happen. I found nothing. Well, nothing but, sand. What was I going to do, _sand_ him to death? No… And the dinnerware was no help – he had all of that under his control.

"Shift?" I asked Jesse.

"No! Absolutely not!" he hollered back at me.

Just a thought.

"So," I shouted back, conversationally, to Jesse. "It kind of looks like we're going to stay like this for a while" until we could think of something that is, "what was it you wanted to tell me, Jesse?"

Jesse looked all embarrassed. "Uh, now's really not the time, Susannah."  
"Oh, please," I roll my eyes. "It can't be _that_ important, can it?"

Jesse muttered something.

"What? I can't hear you, Jesse! You got to say it louder."

Finally with a resolute face, he took one deep breath.

"I love you. Will you marry me?" he shouted back.

I screamed as I slipped and fell on the sand, from shock. Great, now my nice Betsy Johnson dress was all sandy.

Wait a minute –

Did Jesse say –?

Did he just ask me to –?

"I love you too!" I screamed back in delight. "And: Yes! Yes I'll marry you!"

So basically that's how it all went down. Later he explained to me, that he had asked Andy before-hand, and he had his blessing. "I asked your step-father while we cooked the dinner for tonight," Jesse told me. "You know how cooking gets Andy in a good mood." He took out, and slipped a gold diamond ring on my finger, I wept silent tears of joy into his shirt, and he held me.

The ceremony was wonderful – if a bit long. After all, we were married in a Catholic church, and the ceremonies are longer there. Adam was there, and so was CeeCee, Gina … every one.

We had – you guessed it – white orchids for the flowers at our wedding. Gina caught the bouquet when I threw it. "As if _you'd _ever settle down, G," I told her.

There were tears – mostly coming from my mother, who said, "My little girl has all grown up, and now she's married." Andy put a comforting arm around her, as she wept with joy, and winked at Jesse, "She's got someone who'll take good care of her, now Helen."

"I just - " my mom choked out. "I just wish her father was here to see it."

"It's okay, Mom," I said, getting a little bit misty-eyed myself. "I know he's watching from where-ever he is."

The ceremony ending wonderfully – even if it was a bit fatiguing. When my mom, the rest of the family, and I said good-bye before I boarded off to my honey-moon (going to Hawaii, in case you were wondering), I told them to take care.

As Jesse and I went through the boarding area, and into the airplane, I asked Jesse in a mischievous voice, "So does this mean we can get pasted second base?" He just laughed, and kissed me on the lips.

"Something like that," Jesse said, with an equally mischievous grin on his face.

So it kind of was, yeah, happily ever after.


End file.
